


The five-year old meddler

by Dungbombacidpops



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco and Hermione don't know they are getting set, F/M, Fluff, Fluff with a smidge of angst, Meddling rose, Single mother Hermione, Slightly anti-Ron, Stuff your face in it fluffy, Sweet fluffy rose, That too by a five year old, draco redemption
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 16:07:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9131689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dungbombacidpops/pseuds/Dungbombacidpops
Summary: Birthday wishes do come true!Well, if you are as cute as her then even Merlin can't stop himself from fulfilling it . May be she is finally getting her wish fulfilled on this birthday.And a sleeping nanny and utter boredom, might just do the trick.A short multichapter story about a five year old girl, who meddled so she could have a Dad.Guys read and review... A DRAMIONE fic.





	1. Chapter 1

She looked at her nanny, dozing on a patch of yellow sunlight as she laid on her back looking at the blueness of the sky. White fluffs of cloud floated from here to there as if chasing each other's tails. She could make out a little fairy and a dragon, and a rabbit in it. She smiled as the rabbit sailed into the dragon's nose. Cloud guessing was her favourite pastime. But her heart wasn't into it today.

She sighed, by far this was the worst birthday, a five-year-old could imagine. First of all, her mum was called into her office to do some important big people work. Though she was very sorry, that she got called, what with her telling sorry and planting a big sloppy kiss every fifteen seconds, yes she had counted. Secondly, her bestest friend in the whole wide world, James, was down with the fever. What was with him and diseases, especially on her birthdays? And as for her dad, he didn't care for her birthday, he never even remembered to send her a card. She was sure, all those big gifts she got from him, a month later than her birthday were probably due to her mum nagging.

And above all, she was utterly bored out of her mind. She tried shaking up her nanny so that they could play hide and seek, but she just mumbled something about hot men and went back to sleeping. She frowned thinking that how a man could be hot, maybe whoever her nanny was dreaming about had a fever or something. She sighed and thought of exploring the park, but her mum's warning about not straying around stopped her little steps.

Her last birthday came into mind. How her mum had made a huge cake with a dragon sitting on top of it, which spit frosting when you tickled its tummy. How James had eaten so much cake that he had upchucked it all back. She giggled a little as she remembered how Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry had to leave with a screaming James, apparently he still wanted more cake.

Ah! Good times. She had wished for a dragon, and she had got one. Of course, it was a toy. Her mum had made her promise never to accept any kind of egg from Hagrid, not even a chicken egg though she didn't know why but her mum kept rambling about snakes and spiders and how he could kiss even a blast ended skewrt. Her father hated spiders, maybe she would send one for his birthday and, of course, Uncle George would help. She giggled thinking about it. Hagrid was … cute?

Maybe there is a surprise later on, who knew. But she could hope.

She thought back to a couple of days, how she had seen her mum crying quietly while doing the dishes. She had asked, but her mum replied that some soap had gone into her eyes.

Well, she was five years old, not mental. Oh yes, her mum never showed it to others but she saw the sadness in her eyes. And as that snot face Katy from her playschool said, that every mum needs a dad to stay happy, may be what her mum needed was a daddy. Maybe what both of them needed was a daddy in their life. So she did what a five-year-old would do, she closed her eyes and wished.

She wished for a dad who would kiss her goodnight, tell her stories, and tickle her in the tummy.

She wished for a dad who was so tall that when he hugged her mum, his arms would go all around, so tall that when she sat on his shoulders, she could touch the sky.

She wished for a dad who would love both of them unconditionally forever and ever and protect them from all the snot-faced Katy's of the world.

She opened her eyes only to see a man sitting under the apple tree, his head bowed and shoulders hunched. His hair was the colour of milk, probably because he drank a lot of it. But he looked sad. And as it was her birthday she didn't want anyone to be sad.

Making sure that her good for nothing nanny was still sleeping, she got up and started walking towards him.

Moreover, he looked tall, and maybe matchmaking her mum wouldn't hurt at all.


	2. Chapter 2

A feeling of relief washed over him as he looked upon the cerulean blue sky. He knew that the world would frown upon him feeling like this, just after burying his father. But then Lucius Malfoy was an evil incarnate, so maybe the world felt relief too.

He had run away from the graveyard where all his pure-blooded fanatic ancestors were laid.

He had run away from the cloying perfume of all those people who came to wish their false condolences.

He had run away as fast as his legs could carry.

He ignored the momentary guilt of leaving his mother in the midst of those vultures who were as made up as the makeup on their faces. Because for once, he wanted to feel how freedom tasted like, yes he was free at last, free from the mask that he was forced to adorn from his childhood.

He remembered back to his third year at Hogwarts. How a well-placed punch from a waif of a brown haired mudblood had not only shattered his jaw but also all of his strongly seized beliefs too. And as the yarn of his long-held principles un-threaded, the intricate design on which his life was based fell into pieces. The change was certainly not sudden. He didn't become a mud-blood hugger the very next day, but he suddenly found his foundation shaky. And, the years of blood, gore and torture didn't help too. He realized that the blood of a muggle born was as red as his, purest of the pure. Seeing the people you love getting tortured does that to you.

He tried hard to forget the brown haired girl's vacant eyes, he tried hard to forget her screams reverberating through the walls of the same house in which he had grown up. And as sand slips through the gaps in the fingers, those memories slipped through his defences and smashed into him. Maybe today he could cleanse himself of all those haunted feelings, and maybe today he could start afresh.

The park he had stumbled upon was deserted, except for a little kid and her mum, who was, by the way, dozing.

He closed his eyes taking in the silence around him before he had to go back to all that suffocation, but something poked his leg. Well, it was someone. It was that little kid who was sitting near her mum.

Suddenly wary of her, he looked at her with a stern expression asking what her problem was.

"Are you tall?" she asked ignoring his stern look.

"Why are you here all alone, and why is your mum still sleeping when you are here talking to a total stranger?" he said not bothering to even answer her.

"She is not my mum, she is just my nanny because my mum is much prettier than her," she huffed as if he was the one doing something wrong.

"Then your _pretty_  mum should fire that nanny of yours if she is sleeping in the middle of her duty."

"Oh! Don't worry, mum will probably fire Mary, that's her name. I mean that's my nanny's name not my mums, my mum's name is also much prettier than her. And you didn't answer me, are you tall?"

"What do you think?" he asked in return.

"I think you are tall," She replied as if it was a common thing for her to ask complete strangers about their height.

"What's your name?" he asked making himself comfortable, as she looked as if she was in no hurry to go.

"My name is Rosalyn, but you can call me Rose. And I am five years old. What's yours?"

"My name is Draco, and you can call me Draco. And I am 26 years old."

She giggled as if she found it very funny. And in return, he couldn't stop the smile breaking on his face.

"You should laugh a lot more, it makes your face look pretty," she said with an air of knowledge that didn't suit her age.

"Men are never meant to look pretty, they look handsome. And how do you know that I don't smile often?" he huffed.

"Well because you looked sad, a moment back."

He was surprised, that the sadness was so evident on his face that a little kid had picked it on from far away. Maybe his Malfoy façade was slipping.

And without thinking ahead, he actually opened up to a five-year-old girl.

"Yes I am sad, I am sad because I lost something. Though I didn't love that thing any longer, I am still sad that I don't have that anymore" he replied. Draco thought, he had finally lost his marbles if he was opening up to a five-year-old kid.

She kept on listening with a rapt attention as if this was a very serious discussion. She pulled herself onto the bench, beside him and watched with eyes as big as saucers.

"When I was three years old I had a doll named Henry, he was a hippogriff, and I loved it to bits. But then I got a dragon who I named Fire, so I didn't love Henry anymore. Then one day I lost him. Though I didn't love him anymore still I was sad. So my mum said that it's okay to be sad when you lose someone even when you don't love them now but because you did loved them once. You should feel sad for that love you had once," she said it with so much innocence that he was left staring at her adorable face. She patted his hand condescendingly as if he was the five-year-old not her. And he was shocked beyond words that how true she was.

There under the apple tree, Draco realized that, amidst the feeling of relief he was also grieving, yes he was grieving for someone, for who he had no affection left. And it was okay.

Because, it was true he had loved his father once, once when he was a kid just like the one sitting beside him. He had worshiped the very ground his father had walked on. He was that little boy for whom his father could do nothing wrong, that little kid who had loved his father with all his heart.

So he grieved for that little boy ... that boy who had lost his father today.


End file.
